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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28470081">home for the new year</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/pseuds/ArgylePirateWD'>ArgylePirateWD</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Person of Interest (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 01:02:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,232</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28470081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/pseuds/ArgylePirateWD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Harold ring in a new year together, and John wonders what the next one might bring.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harold Finch/John Reese</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>home for the new year</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Closing out this dumpster fire of the year with some fluff! May the next one be much better for us all! 💖</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last hour of the year ticks away, and John heads for the safehouse bedroom for the person he wants to spend its last minutes with. Even if Harold hadn't asked to be awakened before the countdown, John would've gone that way and snuggled in close. Since he did, John brings champagne, setting it on the nightstand before slipping beneath the covers. No fancy champagne flutes. Harold will probably have something to say about that, but who cares? He'll wind up drinking from the bottle with John anyway.</p><p>This is his favorite place to be: pressed close to Harold's warmth, both of them safe and secure and together another night. He kisses the back of Harold's head, letting soft hair tickle his nose and lips, and breathes in the familiar smell of him, then lets out a soft, happy sigh, all of his muscles unlocking, melting him into the mattress. Harold smells good—like Harold, only Harold, like home.</p><p>He's not used to having a home, especially not one shaped like a person. Turns out it's pretty great.</p><p>His hands wander, as they tend to do when he gets this close, following the shape of Harold's body. One slips around Harold's waist, pressed between Harold and the mattress, the other maps out the shape of Harold through his warm flannel pajamas, roaming over his arm, his chest, his belly, his hip and leg. Getting to touch Harold, having the freedom and permission to hold him and run his hands all over him is one of his greatest joys. Perfect way to close out a busy, busy year.</p><p>In the end, his exploring hand finds Harold's, wrapping around it. Maybe this will be the year he makes things more official, he thinks, rubbing Harold's bare ring finger with his thumb. It's a terrifying thought, but a good kind of terror. There won't be anyone else—not for him. And while a ring sure as hell isn't necessary, he thinks it would look good, it would <em>feel</em> good, on Harold's hand.</p><p>Or maybe the hype of the approaching new year is getting to him. Time to wake Harold.</p><p>He hates waking Harold most of the time. They've been so busy lately, and the winter cold has been wreaking havoc on Harold's aching bones, keeping him awake late into the night most nights. But Harold insisted, so John nuzzles in close to his ear, murmuring, "It's almost time, Finch," and pressing kisses to his skin as he gently shakes him awake.</p><p>As always, Harold is absurdly cute when he first wakes up, confused and sweet and reluctant to be alert. He mumbles something that might translate to, "Still dark outside," and tugs the blankets close to his chest. How can John not kiss him again?</p><p>"It's almost midnight," John insists. "New year. I brought champagne." Harold huffs, unimpressed, and John chuckles and presses his lips to Harold's skin again. "I promise, you can go right back to sleep next year."</p><p>Harold heaves a sigh and grabs his glasses, then rolls over onto his back, John moving quickly to get out of his way and help him turn. He peers up at John with bleary, annoyed eyes, and John's heart does something funny in his chest. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty," John gets out, somehow. God, he loves Harold too much, so much he can hardly breathe through it sometimes.</p><p>"Didn't expect you to actually listen to me this time," Harold grumbles.</p><p>"Wanted to make sure I got my kiss," John says, giving Harold his most obnoxious grin. Harold's sleepy scowl deepens. "It's New Year's Eve, and I'm a traditional guy."</p><p>"You are nothing of the sort." Harold sits up, slowly and carefully, groaning a little along the way, and doesn't shrug off John's proffered assistance. "But I brought this on myself, I suppose."</p><p>"You really did," John says, unrepentant, and Harold finally cracks the tiniest smile. Encouraged, John gets up and pulls Harold into a hug, and buries his joy in the curve of Harold's shoulder. "Be careful what orders you give me, Harold." He kisses Harold's shoulder. "Sometimes I actually follow them."</p><p>Harold snorts, and wraps his arms around John. "Thank you," he says, "for listening this time," and John's heart does more ridiculous circus tricks. "Sorry I'm not more entertaining."</p><p>"Hey, no," John says, quickly, more than ready to shut that down. "I got more than enough entertainment today." He has the bruises and split knuckles to prove it, along with the exhausted number sleeping deeply in a room down the hall. These quiet, peaceful moments with Harold? There's nothing better. "I'm right where I want to be tonight."</p><p>His phone buzzes insistently in the pocket of his sweatpants, the alarm going off. "Thirty seconds," he says, pulling it out and shutting off the alarm, then switching to the clock. Less than that by the time he's got it open and ready for the both of them to watch, the seconds ticking away fast.</p><p>Giddiness builds inside him with each passing one, eagerness, nervous anticipation fizzing in his chest and his gut. How, he's not sure. He must've kissed Harold hundreds of times since that first time early in the year, and holidays and time don't mean all that much when you've lived like him. Days are just days, and there's never enough time.</p><p>But they've both made it through another year they both thought they wouldn't see. Now they have even more to live for in the next one—for each other, for them together. Maybe that'll be enough to make it a great year. Hell, maybe it'll be enough to get one or both of them to retire. Harold's not the only one who can feel each passing year deep in his aching bones. They're not getting any younger, and the demons in his head are starting to slowly quiet down. Is it time for him to settle down somewhere with a husband and some dogs, for him to hang up his suit and put away his guns, for Harold to shut down his computers a little more? Would either of their hearts let them? Maybe, maybe, maybe...</p><p>"Ten seconds," Harold says, and they count the rest down together, snuggling in closer to each other as midnight draws near. John's heart pounds in his chest, his mouth grows dry. A new year. A new start, or more of the same?</p><p>And then it's time to find out.</p><p>Outside, the world celebrates with joyous noise, with fireworks and cheer. Here, they celebrate together, John's nerves dissolving the instant his mouth fits against Harold's once again. They cradle each other's faces in their palms, Harold's hands warm on John's face, Harold's cheeks so soft under John's touch. Champagne forgotten, John loses himself in the slide of Harold's lips, the heat of his mouth, kissing him and kissing him and being kissed by him for so long it feels like forever, like tomorrow, like possibilities and cautious optimism and home.</p><p>Yes, he's right where he's supposed to be tonight, and tomorrow, and hopefully for many more years to come. Might take a little of that luck Harold doesn't believe in to get them there, but—for now, at least—John's feeling pretty hopeful. Whatever else happens, whatever new things get thrown at them, as long as he still has this, he'll be the happiest man alive.</p>
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